


ABBA’s Entire Discography

by Miss_Macabre_Grey



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types
Genre: Fic title changed semi-arbitrarily, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mutual Pining, Wade has not noticed Peter thinks they’re dating, Wasn’t supposed to be multi-chartered but hey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:58:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miss_Macabre_Grey/pseuds/Miss_Macabre_Grey
Summary: Long nights are no stranger to both Spider-Man and Deadpool. As it happens, however, Wade has no issue trying to make Spider-Man’s nights a little bit easier





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just wanted to make this a single chapter fic but here I am. I literally just have ONE. JOKE. one! Joke! That I want to make. But to do that I, apparently, have to make it an entire story. Not that I hate the idea of writing DP and SM as friends, but I really wanted to just make this an easy smut and fluff fic.
> 
> Nonetheless, here’s chapter one. This isn’t at all smut, so it was genuienly cute to write them. I hope you enjoy them.
> 
> Should have also mentioned that texting is like dialogue in which a new person is texting with a new paragraph. So if it looks like  
> [message one]  
> [Message two] then it’s one person, but that person is sending multiple text.
> 
> [message one]  
> [message two]
> 
> [Message one person 2] means it’s actuallh a new person

Not that Wade goes looking for Spider-Man every and any evening, but Wade absolutely loves seeing him anyway. Barely visible, but visible nonetheless, Wade sees Spider-Man sprawled out on a roof, limbs spread like they wanted to make snow angels. Wade jumps to that roof with some absurd parkour running, impressed with himself but still jealous he could fly or swing across the city like other heroes.

Wade sees deep heaving of his chest, the up and down visible and Wade swears he can almost hear Spider-Man panting. “Hard night?” Wade asks, but it sounds teases. When Spider-Man jumps to his feet in a swift motion, battle stance ready, Wade just laughs and points. “For real? Ya look tired as shit. I ain’t here for a fight, Spidey.”

Spider-Man keeps the main form of the stance, but Wade sees the muscles relax. “What are you doing, Deadpool? Aren’t you busy?”

Wade shrugs. “Never too busy to say hi to my favorite friendly neighborhood Spider-Man! And it’s time for a midnight snack, wouldn’t you agree? You look like you could use a good crime fighting snack.” In an attempt to seem harmless, Wade decides to take a seat on the roof, criss-cross-applesauce style, and puts his hand on his lap.

Spider-Man relaxes completely. His posture is nonchalant and he rubs the back of his neck as it looks like he considers his choices. “Your treat?”

“Of course!” Even beneath the suit Wade’s bright smile lights the roof and he hops back to his feet with tangible excitement. “Hope you like Taco Bell because they’re the best and closest place around! At least of places still open.”

Spider-Man laughs, it’s small but enough to get Wade’s heart thumping, and nods. “I’d rather McDonalds, actually. I am _dying_ for a good milkshake, but I can’t complain. Just give me a moment to finish catching my breath then we can set out.”

Wade may ogle at Spider-Man a little too obviously, but at least not in a way that set off Spider-Man’s spidey senses. It was all wholesome admiration to see those tight spandexed-muscles move up and down. Except admiration died and Wade’s love took over when Spider-Man crouched down, just a little, and stuck a thumb out to point to his back. 

“Hop on. I think I memorized the shortest route to TB.”

Wade squeals, one let in the air and fists shaking near his chest. “You’re the best, Spidey!” he confesses after hopping on Spider-Man’s back.

Spider-Man lets out an “oof!” grunt of pain and wiggles against Wade. “Be more careful! Or I’ll drop you. For real.”

Wade wraps his arms around Spider-Man’s shoulders and his legs around his hips. Not tightly, since he really did want to ride Spider-Man gently. If nothing else, Wade wanted to be a gentleman around Spidey.

With one fine check to make sure Wade is secure but not choking, Spider-Man jumps off the roof. The thrill sends a shiver down his spine as he feels the free feeling of a fall then the gentle tug of gravity moving them through the air as Spider-Man slings through the city. Wade imagines himself like this for eternity, the bliss of holding the man he admires and loves mixed with so almost high feeling of flying. He _really_ needs to behave himself since he will absolutely be begging for this again. Not even having his own webshooters would compare.

When the two arrive, only one car is at the drive-thru and the lights inside are almost all off except in the back for cooking. “Damn! They’re not taking in-store customers! Noooo. I had my heart set on a gordita!”

Spider-Man laughs, almost like he isn’t totally _devastated_ by the turn of events. “Really, DP? Only one gordita?”

Wade shrugs. “Okay, I planned to order closer to twenty and single order of fiesta potatoes. Why do the good have to suffer?”

Despite the mask, Wade can just _tell_ Spider-Man is rolling his eyes. “Sure. Yeah, sure. If you want I can use my webs to make us a fake car. It’ll be like the Flintstones where we walk the car ourselves though.”

His entire face lighting up, Wade looks ready to lift Spider-Man off his feet and twirl him. “You mean it?!”

“Uh,” not a good sign, “I mean, I can, but I was joking. They wouldn’t probably serve us even with a cool spider car.”

“Those dastards!” 

Spider-Man laughs, and it seems so welcome to Wade’s ears. “Chill. Maybe another time. I should focus on stopping a few more petty crimes before I call it a night anyway.”

“N-no, wait!” Wade shouts when he sees Spider-Man extend his arm to prepare leaving. “Listen, I can stop some crimes with you. Get stuff done twice as fast, and I can make you a _homemade_ midnight snack.”

The tension that runs through Spider-Man’s shoulders is visible, and Wade feels a pang or shame for even suggesting it. He should have been happy Spider-Man even implied that they could maybe perhaps try late meals together later. Instead, he invited the hero — a real hero — to his assassin pad? Wade needs to keep some ideas to himself.

Spider-Man sighs and nods slowly, even if the strain in his body is noticeable. “We meet again in an hour. You remember how to get to the building we met originally on?”

“Y-yeah?”

“Good. They better be the best late night tacos I’ve ever had. And _don’t_ kill anyone. Just stop a few muggers or weird molesters. Stop them. I’ll, uh, see you soon”

“Smell you later!” Deadpool cries out as Spider-Man swings away. His heart beats in his chest so fast Wade almost wants to reach in and rip it out, but he figures he wants to make web-head happy and actually fight some crime. Spider-Man seemed oddly hesitant to say yes to the meal at Wade’s house. Sure, it meant going to Wade’s house, but Wade was not forcing it. Not that Wade wanted to complain; he is more than happy at the idea of hanging out with his idol alone in his home. He just needed to pass the time saving the day and he would make Spidey proud.

Forty whole minutes pass, and Wade only manages to stop one ATM robbery and one creepy dude trying to kidnap a kid. The robber he just took a single $100 bill as a fee payment, and taped him to the machine. The creepy dude got three fingers sliced off, definitely not enough to bleed out from, though more than he intended to cut off. Whatever, Wade is learning. Without the kidnapped to worry about, Wade had a lot of issues handling the screaming kid, but at least the kid knew how to get home from the location and Wade figured it’s be easier to just let him walk home instead of traumatizing him more and trying to make conversation or maybe he should have walked the kid home anyway? Wade is new to the heroing jig, but he thinks he did enough.

Getting to the rooftop takes another 15 minutes, a mugger being another easy bust along the way, so Wade only has to wait 5 more minutes for his beautiful Spidey would arrive. And Wade waiting is not a strong point, with him circling in place and talking in a low panicked voice to his two mental voice companions. They offer no sound advice, but they Wade starts becoming more willing to take it and run off the building when ten minutes pass.

Deadpool’s stomach flips at the thought of running of a building and landing in someone, even at the late hour. Spider-Man would have his head, but then if Spider-Man does not show, then he can just heal and not think about it. Just the thought of disappointing his friend annoys him, so he just continues pacing the rooftop and trying to convince the boxes and himself that Spider-Man will show. Even if Spider-Man doesn’t show, Wade tells himself, it’ll be fine. It’s late. He was friendly before, so if he doesn’t come back, Wade won’t take it personally. The promise of food can only go so far when it means staying out later than planned and hanging out wit-

“Sorry I’m late,” Spider-Man says as a way to announce his arrive. He looks worse than how he first saw him, covered in dust and a tear on his suit near his shoulder. His knees wobbled and his body hunched over as he panted. “Sorry, but I think I’ll need some food more than ever. Still offering?”

“Yeah!” Wade answers, so full of life and honesty and excitement all other and prior worries leave. “I’ll always offer you food. Might even have ice cream and a blender to get you that milkshake you wanted earlier.”

The cheeks of Spider-Man’s mask fill out more, letting Wade know there’s a smile going on underneath. Wade wants, desperately, to see it, but stays in place, not wanting to push the boundaries like that. But he does think lifting the mask may help breathing, which it seems Spider-Man desperately needs to try. As far as Deadpool and Spider-Man team-ups went, it seemed like Spider-Man was a parkour fanatic who could go on for back-to-back fights without really losing stamina. Wade has had many-a wet dreams from noticing how good that stamina seemed.

“What’s got ya all breathless and stuff? We’ve been having very different nights. You got all the fun parts, I bet. Like, I barely helped three people tonight, and you look like you got out of climbing through a chimney.” Wade gasps, “ _Did_ you go down a chimney? No sexual innuendo intended, but, like, we met Santa together and he was kinda an ass. How’d you even get your ass through a chimney? No offense, your ass is _phenomenal_ but I can’t imagine those perfect cheeks tightening to squeeze through. I mean, maybe just drops presents down instead of dropping himself down. But, then again, your ass would be the present, at least if you came down my chimney, this time it can or can not be sexually intended. Anyway, how was your night?”

Wade feels the glare through Spider-Man’s mask and smiles wide. Not that that is something Spider-Man can notice well. “Just. Food. Milkshake. I’m really tired, and as close as I was to swinging home, I came back here instead, but it took all my energy. So. Yeah.”

Deadpool hunches his shoulders and pouts, so painfully obvious it really is noticeable. “So we can’t do another piggy back ride?”

Spider-Man shrugs. “I literally got done supporting the weight of an _entire building_ while firefighters made sure every last person inside got out for like 40 minutes. You’d be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Spider’s back. Whatever.”

“Damn, that’s hot,” is Wade’s first reply, which gets him a baffled look from Spidey. “Like, you’re so damn strong for a twink. An entire building?!”

“It was only three floors. And- I mean- I only supported a part of it that was collapsing in the corner.”

“Still so hot. Like, you could not only pound me hard enough to break the bed frame, you could pound me hard enough to break the entire _floor_!”

“Deadpool, I’m never coming to your apartment if you think I’m getting anywhere near your bed, least of all with you also in it.”

“Not even for a milkshake? And it can be the couch if you want. Or kitchen counters. Even just the floor itself is fine.”

Spider-Man pauses. Takes in a slow, deep breath. Exhales. He even goes as far as to gently rub his temples. “I really want a damn milkshake. How far is your place.”

Wade shifts his weight between his feet and shrugs. “Hell if I know where it is from here. Just lemme try your web shooters, and I’ll find it pretty fast. It’s close, but it’s a concrete jungle, and I want to Tarzan my way into finding it!”

“No way! Those are complicated to both use and make! If they break then I’m screwed for my next patrol.”

“Nothing wrong with screwing around on patrol.” Wade interjects, completely unhelpful. “But you need to relax and let me handle it. I’m on a roll tonight. Getting you to my place safe and sound’ll be easy-peasy!”

Spider-Man just groans and rubs a hand over his face. “You promise you can get to your place fast? I really need to sit on something more comfortable than a concrete roof.”

“I promise. Although I don’t promise how much more cozy my couch is, but the apartment’s pretty new, so ain’t much mess in it yet.”

“Deadpool, I need you to take this promise seriously,” Spider-Man pleas, sticking his hand out with only his pinkie finger extended. “Pinkie Swear you won’t break me or my equipment?”

So childish it just worked, and suddenly Deadpool’s entire Aura shifts as he grasps Spider-Man’s pinkie with his own. A single nod and upright position, with his demeanor stoic and fierce, Deadpool wraps Spider-Man’s web-slingers around his wrist. Spider-Man double-checks to make sure they’re secure before giving Wade a thumbs up.

“So, uh, I have the strength to stay on your back. Am I too heavy for you?” Spider-Man asks with such genuine concern that Wade can’t bring himself to actually laugh.

“Uh, Spidey, isn’t that reverse? I’m, like, a big-ass grown man who’s ripped and buff as hell. You’re, like, a baby twink fresh out of high school, or something.”

“The hell I am! I’m 26 with 160 pounds of muscle to carry your grown ass around all day with ease, in case you forgot. You’re not the one who has proportional spider strength.”

“Easy, easy. Point is, I can carry you, no sweat. Want me to hold you bridal style?”

Another facepalm. Wade really loves testing Spider-Man’ limits. “You literally can’t if you want to sling through the city. Just do it piggy back style.”

“Sounds kinky. A’ight, hop on.”

As his semi-last chance to back out, Wade half-expect Spider-Man to just leave. Except all he does is give a curt nod before rising to his tip-toes to wrap his arms around Wade’s neck. Wade hunches forward a bit so he has more ability to hold Spidey. Spider-Man makes this a full body experience though, wrapping his legs around Wade’s torso. The hand that doesn’t have a web slinger subconsciously reaches down to grab Spider-Man’s leg to keep him in place. Not that, in the event that they fall, will help protect him at all, but it feels right anyway.

Deadpool, with no difficulties, walks to the ledge of the building and shoots a string of web to the next building, hopping off before Spider-Man can protest. “WHOOOOOO-HOOOO!” Deadpool screams, muffling the panicked noise from Spider-Man.

Spidey never even got a chance to explain how his web-shooters work, and he _fully_ expected to die when Wade jumped off. Then Wade shoots another string at a different area, and it feels like they’re progressing and swinging through the air the way he designed them to work. For his life, Spider-Man is grateful that Wade instinctually knew what to do, but as a hero he’s jealous because he, himself, needed practice. Not dying beats pride, though, and all Spider-Man can do is hold on tight. 

Wade loves having his personal hero and role model clenching onto him, but the truth is that he does genuinely love the freedom of swinging in air. He always thought it would be nice the same way roller coasters are nice, but, no. Wade almost forgot about his crush on his back entirely with the truly _freeing_ feeling in his chest right now. Any other time, Spider-Man holding onto him would be his wet dream, except all thoughts fly away as he soars through the New York City lights.

Making it to his actual apartment is a fluke, but not one Wade will confess. Wade blanked the entire trip, but he manages to work open the window to his apartment near the fire escape. All that greets them when Wade manages to get them through is a worn bed and a closer mostly empty of clothes, many other clothes and torn-costumes on the floor.

“Well, this is where I sleep. No sense in staying in here unless you want to sleep with me. Otherwise, let’s head to the kitchen, and you can take a nap on the couch while I cook?” It comes off as a question because Wade honestly cannot imagine anyone feeling comfortable enough in his presence to sleep, be it him or the way his apartment usually smells. 

“Fuck, that sounds perfect. Wake me up in like 27 minutes. If you wait too long it’ll be impossible to wake me up at all.”

Wade drops his jaw at the curse, forcing his mouth close by manually shutting it with his hand, then shakes his head. Honestly, Spider-Man told him he was a legitimate adult, so Wade should expect a little profanity here and there. “Oh, sure. C’mon. It’s literally all omg big room outside this.”

Wade does not have a huge apartment. Maybe not even a _nice_ apartment, but it is livable, which is more than people can expect from him. The carpet only has a few stains, most from before him, the walls have a semi-fresh coat of beige paint. The furniture looks old and mismatched, and there’s even an electric guitar and a drum set on the wall opposite to the sofa. Wade sees Spider-Man she the guitar before ultimately lying flat on his couch and conking out.

Wade figures it’s fair. Saving people from a collapsing building earns a freebie nap at someone else’s place and a good meal. Knowing Spider-Man needs energy, at least enough so he can head back to his own place, means Wade gets started right away to making him food. Torn between tacos that he promised and something he can actually make in 27 — 26 — minutes, Wade opts to make something fast. Staying as quiet as he can, Wade starts taking out his flour and eggs and some vanilla extract to mix, adding a little bit of butter and water in as he stirs.

Pancakes may not be ideal, but he can make a solid 10 during Peter’s nap, letting each one be as fluffy and light and golden brown as they can. Spider-Man deserves in the best, so Wade eats the ones that have even the teeny-tiniest of flaws, leaving Spider-Man with a solid four pancakes left. About 25 minutes have passed, so Wade decides to take out his ice cream and rinse off his blender. Unlike a decent person who would awaken someone with a kiss and gentle shake, Wade decides to disturb Spider-Man’s little nap by finally mixing his milkshake and letting the loud blender do the waking.

Sure enough, Spider-Man jumps from the couch, unleashing a high kick in the air, landing on the floor in a fighting pose. “Huh? The . . .” Then a slow look-around as Spider-Man starts to recall where he is and sees the blender swirling around some ice cream. “You ass! I thought there was someone about to chainsaw me!”

“Nah, I wouldn’t do that. My evil clone, though, definitely tried to cut you in half and totally ruined your career. That’s not this timeline though, and I would try and prevent it.”

Spider-Man sighs and shrugs, going to sit back down on the couch since Wade has no kitchen table. “Smells really good. But no tacos?”

“Forgot to leave the meat out to defrost. I’ll invite you over later for them, though. Made pancakes and a cookies and cream milkshake. High in calories for my growing Spider! I even snuck in some carrots into the pancakes for veggie vitamins.”

Spider-Man flinches at that. “You didn’t really, did you?”

Wade just laughs and shakes his head. “Nah. Put bananas in for fruit vitamins. I’m kinda unstable, but I’m not a monster. Carrots in pancakes? I’d never be so cruel!”

Spider-Man smiles and-and-and Wade _sees_ the smile as Spider-Man lifts his mask up to his nose. They ate together before, but Wade always sits _beside_ Spider-Man. He never gets a full-on look at those nice lips. That, and it really is just a view that Wade never gets tired of seeing. Secret identities are one of the few things Wade fully respects, but, _Damn_ , would he like to see the full beauty of Spider-Man sans mask.

Spider-Man takes the plate Wade offers with no finesse as he picks up the fork and shoves a handful of pancake into his mouth. He chews for all of three seconds before swallowing some down and looking at Wade, head tilted. “You’re not eating with me?”

“Ate while I cooked. Gives me more ability to talk the entire time, you know?”

The little laugh Spider-Man lets out makes Wade’s heart flutter. “Sure, sure. The food’s really good. I don’t think I’ll talk much while I shove it down, but it’s so good it won’t last long.”

Praise? From his hero? Wade is on cloud nine and openly squeals in delight. “Don’t sweat it, Spidey. I can do all the talking!” Wade proclaims with high enthusiasm and no follow up.

In a way, he really never expected to get so far, and his mind is racing through a million thought, like usual, but he cannot figure out where to start or what to let out. Wade can talk, always, except he really, really likes having Spider-Man’s company in the quiet of his apartment without having to hear the busy streets of late night NYC. Somehow, the Merc-with-a-Mouth feels overwhelmed with a need to stay silent and just enjoy the moment.

Not in a creepy way, Wade watches Spidey eat, scarfing it down in large bites that indicate that Spider-Man can fit more in his pretty mouth than Wade predicted. It takes a moment to not dwell on that observation, only to snap back to reality with Spider-Man finishing his food and slurping down his milkshake. Great. Again, Wade tries not to think about Spidey giving the cute little umbrella straw he put in the glass the succ. The true blessing and curse is that the mask is mostly on his face, so Wade cannot see the possibly erotic look of glee Spider-Man makes as he drinks the last bit of shake.

Spider-Man pouts into the empty shake glass before putting it on the coffee table and rolling down his mask. Spider-Man decides to stand, and Wade notices how the posture looks much stronger and stable than it had 40 minutes ago. Except Spider-Man fidgets in place, shifting his weight between his legs and crossing his arms. “Um. Thank you. This was . . . it was honestly really nice of you. I appreciate it.”

Then comes Wade’s instant reaction of “Shit. You’re leaving now, right, right. That. That makes sense. You’re free to leave, of course. I won’t-I’d never- make you stay. I don’t want you to, I mean, like, I like your company, I mean. You know, bros and all. But absolutely leave now. You can hop out the window for all I care, and I do care, like, you should hop out safely and-uh. Shit, I’m making it weird.”

Spider-Man relaxes his shoulders and shrugs. “No, it’s just that you’re weird. After a certain point this would just be your normal. And I feel like I’m almost used to being around your normal.” A small chuckle, somewhat dry but also genuine. “I’ll be careful leaving, DP, I just need my web-slinger back.”

Instead of feeling heavy at the implication that Spider-Man needs hi webslinger to leave, Wade still feels oddly giddy. Aw, but I really thought I earned it. I’m a natural! Did you see me? I got us here without going ‘SPLAT!’ into a single window!”

Another chuckle, louder and even more full of genuine amusement. “Too bad. Just because you’re a natural doesn’t make you a pro. C’mon, Deadpool. It’s not like I’m not going to swing by again-“

“Pun!”

Spider-Man makes it clear he rolls his eyes even beneath a mask. “-it’s not like I won’t swing by again. That webshooter probably only has enough in it to get me home anyway. Not worth you keeping.”

Wade lets out a childish whine but takes off the glove the Web-shooter is. “What’s the magic woooord?”

Spider-Man puts his fists on his hips and juts a hip to the side. “Deadpool,” he says in a serious tone.

“Well, now, that doesn’t even sound like a real word, but sure.” Wade removes the band from his wrist and passes it back to Spider-Man. Wade gets a friendly, cooperative node from Spidey, about what he expected, than a very sudden feeling of two arms wrapped around his chest, Spider-Man’s head briefly tucked between his collarbone and neck.

“Thanks for taking care of me tonight,” Spider-Man murmurs in a voice soft enough Wade would not catch if not for Spider-Man’s face being close to his own.

Like a true gentleman, Wade gives Spider-Man a hug back, tapping Spidey’s back with his hand twice to show support. Unlike a true gentleman, Wade feels self-control slip, and he places a tender kiss onto Spider-Man’s head, feeling the spandex of his mask on his lips. “I’d take care of you any night,” Wade admits, in full seriousness as he holds Spider-Man close by giving a firm squeeze to his shoulders. “And day. And afternoon. Whenever you need me, I’d help take care of you.”

Spider-Man pulls away with a small nod, fiddling with putting on his web shooter. “I know. I believe you. I’ll just go for now, though.”

Spider-Man takes a few steps through the apartment, pushing open Wade’s door, and that is the fullest amount of waiting Wade can handle before taking three fast and large leaps to catch Spider-Man by the arm as he pauses to open the window. “Stay. I mean. Please. Please, for the night. It’s probably close to 3 in the morning. I’ll sleep on the couch and even give you my bed.”

“I shouldn’t stay. It’s been a long night.”

“Sleeping here will make it shorter! I’ll making you tacos in the morning. If I take them out now they’ll be defrosted.” Wade pauses for a moment, let’s go of Spider-Man and takes a step back. “Right. Sorry. I’m being pushy. Sorry.”

Spider-Man turns his back to Deadpool fully again, opens the window, but stands there, not taking a step out. “Before I leave, you can give me your phone number. Weird that I know where you live but not how to get in touch short of kicking down your door.”

Wade feels lit light a Christmas tree as he scampers away to find a pen and paper to scribble down his contact info. Sure, he has some mercenary business cards left over, but this is a chance for friendship, not business, so Wade ignore the thought of passing his hero a paper reminder of his mercenary status. Wade finds a red crayon first, then grabs an old bill since he finds no clean sheet of paper. He rushes back to his bedroom, praying Spider-Man really did stay and wait for him. Lo and behold, Wade sees Spider-Man perched at the edge of his bed, bouncing it slightly beneath that pretty booty of his.

“Got it,” Wade says as he passes Spider-Man his number.

“Says you owe 1499 dollars on rent due last week.”

“I paid it already, swear! It’s an old bill. My number’s on the back.”

Without wasting a moment, Peter flips it around and nods, confirming the number in his head in case he loses the sheet. “I’ll text you that I got home safe and sound, okay?”

“Okay.” And Wade feels like a young adult novel when the word leaves his mouth, but Spider-Man takes it as an okay to up and leave, swinging out the window.  
-  
In about twenty minutes Wade hears his phone buzz on the stand near his bed. Wade would be sleeping at that moment had he not been waiting for that exact buzz. The screen lights up to show that he has a new message, and his heart swoons.

[It’s Spider-Man. This is Deadpool? It says Wade on the paper.]

[That would be me. Wade W. Wilson at your service.]

[Cool alliteration. That’s even more than mine.]

[ooooooooh u have a cool name too? Red Team is real! Daredevil as an alliterative name 2!]

[D: What? He didn’t tell me his real name before! We gotta team up with him and I’m asking if he’s keeping it from me on purpose or just forgot to mention. DD is so cool. I feel so betrayed.]

[Fret not, Spidey. It’s him, not you. You got the type of trustworthy face that makes a man want to spill all his secrets to!]

[fhats it them. DD is blind and can’t see my trustworthy face :/ Still should ask for a team up tho]

[We can do that l8r. Sleeping is ideal right now.]

[Yeah True. I’m beat. In like every sense of the word. Text u later DP]  
[and thanks. For real thank you, Wade.]  
[Goodnight]


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am such a sucker for FRIENDSHIP. I cannot NOT let them be friends. Which is all fine and dandy if I went into this thinking it would have a plot and purpose. I swear. This was supposed to be a blow job fic and it? It has a plot now? Kinda a loose plot but there are things happening that only heroes can take care off that I (semi purposefully) put in chapter one to continue onward.
> 
> So what I’m saying is that this is a fluffy and kind chapter. Just a lot of dialogue and good times.

When Wade wakes in the morning, the clock reads he actually slept into noon. The night before had not been particular exhausting for him, just long. Unlike Spider-Man who stopped a _building_ from collapsing. The most strenuous physical activity from the prior night was keeping his hands to himself when he had _The_ Spider-Man so close. Wade does not regret not trying to push a little more physical activity with his hero, though, not a bit. His heart flutters when he recalls the hero very freely giving away his phone number to a mercenary.

[im making breakfast if ur down]  
[tacos? If you’re feeling facny I can even make some hella nice bowl of cereal]

Wade has to wait an entire three minutes before he gets a response.

[its def lunch hour]  
[and I’d love some food but I’m at work and literally just clocked back in]  
[Do not try to bring me food at work btw! Youre not allowed to try and figure stuff out about my personal life!]

The third text came as a noticeable afterthought. Wade nearly finished typing his response of being food to Spider-Man by the time he got the message. Wade has to sign and backspace his text.

[i guess since you’re a REAL adult with a day job then youll have to miss out on amazing lunch from yours truly]  
[y not dinner?]

No response. Nothing. Spider-Man sent that he clocked in, but who stops texting just because of a job? In 2018? He is a millennial; he’s supposed to be attached to his phone and ruining the integrity of society and Evil has technology stuff. Does Wade count as a Millennial? At 32 for fanficfion’s sake, Wade thinks he may be the same generation as Peter, but then Spider-Man is also pretty much a baby boomer and Wade is millennial at 26? Timelines. Point is, Wade deserves a text back.

Wade and Spider-Man must have different types of phones because his pretty green iPhone 5 messages have no read receipt to see if Spidey at least saw the message. Not that Wade wants to know if he is being ghosted, but also he wants to know if Spider-Man is the type to ghost people. Since, c’mon, his name is not Ghost-Man. Sure, some hero’s are pretty much dead, or Deadpool, but not Spider-Man, as far as Wade could tell. Ghost Rider counts as a real ghost or a weird mix? Is Nick Cage qualified to be in Infinity Wars?

Wade kinda hopes so. Nick Cage counts as a Marvel hero. Like, how much range of acting can one man have? Incredible.

After about thirty-three minutes and fourteen seconds Wade felt his phone vibrate on his chest. Wade shoots back up on his bed after lying back down, no energy in his body as he recovers from Spider-Man’s rejection. His phone buzzes again while in his hand.

[what time?]  
[i can do 6:30 at earliest?]

Wade wonders if his little school girl heart will stay in his chest, pressing his hand to his chest to both it beat fast and make sure it stays. As a growing Deadpool, Wade needs to make sure he will not lose his heart so early on in a texting relationship.

[lol try like 8. Dinner is 9-12 for me usually but I can pencil you in for an earlier appointment if need b]

[how do you have all those muscles with those late nite eating habits? It ruins ur metabolism]

[Marvel has a thing for making me look hot in my suit]

[sure that totally makes sense]  
[not. Whos marvel?]  
[anyway not that you don’t look hot in your suit but also u will tell me how u got so buff]

[its a gift, twinky.]  
[reminds me that I have some jokes about your twinkiness. Permission to make this convo weird and sexual?]

[permission not granted. I’m gonna do my work. C you at 8 then patrol]

Wade sucked in a long breath and let out the most dreamy, Disney sigh he could. Dinner and adventure with Spidey. It would be so romantic. Preferably romantic and sexual, but Wade would need to up his game for that to happen. Spidey has class and ass, and he knows from countless example that Wade lacks in the wholesome relationship department. Deadpool has an argument in himself and his internal shoulder devils, white and yellow both being rather vocal about Spider-Man being way out of his league while Wade tries to insist agreeing to dinner and fighting crime implies they’re at least friends.

They act like friends, at least. If Wade was being honest with himself, and not putting on his shipper-goggles, Spider-Man has at least occasionally responded kindly to the flirting. At times, Wade noticed a hint of “flirting” back, even though it always felt playful and platonic. Platonic flirting? Wade thinks that describes it. Friendly banter makes it seem like both parties involved are strictly platonic, whereas platonic flirting implies Wade would definitely tap that Spidey back when he flirts. 

Eventually Wade manages to convince himself they really have something between them, and that regardless of what “league” Spider-Man is in, Wade deserves to be his friend and that white and yellow are wrong. So what if Spider-Man is better than Deadpool? Wade invited him to dinner, and he accepted; all he had to now is he on good behavior like he has been for the past few months. Wade really wanted to keep their relationship going, as long and strong as he could.

Except maybe he really would need some help being on good behavior. Spider-Man is a good influence on Wade, but Deadpool out in the field always needs assistance keeping on track. Sure, dinner can go splendidly, but afterward he would probably be on an emotional high and need a lot more control to hold himself back on criminals. Like a buffer friend who could remind him they are not on a date and to make it just business and ensure he not fall out of line during the patrol.

Wade does not have a reputation for good ideas, but he thinks the buffer friend counts as one of his few good ones. Not just any buffer friend, he needs a _wingman_ to tell Spider-Man how cool he is but not in an obvious and cliche way. Without any more hesitation, Wade picks up his phone and clicks the contact he wants.

[The x-men dude(s?) with wings is busy. Can u be my wingman to nite?]  
[If you say yes theres free dinner involved]

[You know I hate texts, Wade. Why wouldn’t you call?]

Deadpool curses under his breath as he remembers the obvious and dials the number instead. It rings once before he hears a smooth and rich voice greet him on the other end.

“Wassup, bro! So, do you want free dinner or not?”

“I can hardly afford to say no, but why do you need a wingman?”

“Uh, because the one and only Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man will be here and I don’t wanna be weird around him.”

“Has he been around you many times before?”

“Yes! He’s so great! I really don’t wanna mess it uuuup.”

“If he’s been around you for awhile then I think he should expect weird around you. You know that.”

Wade mutters something about “Yeah, he said something about that last night,” but gets shushed right away. Not interrupting is hard, but Wade lets the other speak.

“So he knows you’re odd. Accept it. I feel willing to help, but do you know whether my sudden presence may be outside his comfort zone or not? I’m not one for dating, but Spider-Man would probably not like a third wheel on your date.”

“It’s totally not a date, bro. Don’t let me get my hopes up! He thinks you’re super cool and would love to chill with you before we could go on a patrol. If you came I’m hoping he’ll think I’m cool, and that all of us cool dudes can go save the city and get ice cream afterwords.”

Wade hears a sigh over the phone, and he wonders if he heartbeat is audible, too. “That’s rather idealistic, Wade. I can come, but I’m only going as what it is. Dinner with some coworkers and then work. Does he know your ‘secret’ identity?”

“He does. He doesn’t know yours and I don’t know his. Maybe we can get to know each other over dinner. I dunno. It’s at my place since you both know me.”

“Maybe. I’ll be there, so don’t worry about that. You should make some type of pasta and fish. Pour some white wine, too. Something outside what you two probably eat all the time together. Not a demand, but take it as free legal advice from your wingman. What time should I arrive?”

“Eight.”

“I’ll be there. See you then, Wade.”

“Later, Ma-“ and then the phone line hangs up. Probably went back to work and could not wait for a proper goodbye. Honestly, people with regular jobs were the worst. Let life distract them a little, jeez. Now Wade has to wallow in his apartment all alone and bored. Maybe he can play cards with himself? No, that’s no good; Wade always cheats himself, then gets mad, then gets in a fist fight with himself. Never a good time.

Like any good and bored person, Wade pulls up Netflix on his TV and binges nearly all of Stranger Things season two in the six hours of free time between then and when he needs to start preparing dinner. Wade feels a strong need to adopt Eleven, call her Ellie for short, for some particular reason he cannot place. He thinks if he ever had a daughter she would be totally amazing and her name would be Ellie. Probably. Who’s to say.

Except he has to cut himself from watching the last two episodes of the season since he has to prepare dinner, and himself, for company. One quick whiff of his forearm and Wade decides a strong and soapy bath would have to come before cooking. Not that neither have smelled Wade before, but he would rather not expose the food they would eat to his dirty germs. Plus, he went to LUSH recently and taking a nice shower with fancy, eco-friendly, free-trade soap would put him in the right mentality.

Wade allotted himself about half an hour to shower, and he used every minute of it. Even though he used to love skin-melting water on his skin in his youth, Wade turns the temperature down to “boiling” instead. His skin flairs at the contact, the sting real and heightening the buzzing pain, not enough for him to cool the water. Wade knows hot showers are bad for the skin and hair, making it easier for hair to fall out, like Wade cares about that. After two minutes of lathering and lathering a quarter of a bar of expensive soap on his skin, Wade washes off. His only objective is to feel clean, and he really does enjoy the feeling of clean even though it comes with a burn.

Getting dressed is easy and quick, at least. The same uniform as ever, the one that makes his glutes look perky and his body look hot. Or at least hot enough to get Spider-Man to think he looks hot. Wade almost takes his phone out to reread those messages but he refrained because he has cooking to do and no time to dream about a few playful texts. The only thing Wade adds to his ensemble is a bright yellow apron, with green frills and white polka dots and a white pouch in the front.

Deadpool made quick work getting the a pot to boil the noodles. Much as he loved his and Spidey’s late night junk food traditions, Wade is taking the pasta advice. Not that he has the white wine to go with it, but he has cheap red wine. Red wine goes well with salmon? Deadpool would call again, but he needs to start making his pasta sauce. All he knew was pasta and fish, and he only had salmon anyway.

Deadpool gets his fish from the fridge where he let it defrost alone with various cheeses to make a white sauce for the pasta. He still had basil, but it looks withered and Deadpool decides to use the dry spices he has in his cabins that instead. Some basil and rosemary and black pepper mixed in with the cheese while it turns into a creamy consistency. The salmon he decides to has parsley and a touch of sage with a bit of basil as well. The noodles should be nearly soft and Deadpool has to find a strainer in his tight kitchen space to drain them out.

In Wade’s search he almost burns the salmon, only barely flipping the fish over before it would ruin the fish’s consistency. Barely still counts as a success, so he ignores the salmon again after putting it on a lower heat while he drains the noodles. Bow tie noodles since not only are they Fanny to wear in a suit, they would have to also be fancy in a meal. Plus, Wade only eats fun shaped macaroni or bow tie noodles so they were essentially the only option.

The sauce looks fine. Wade adds a few more spices and enough garlic to kill a family of vampires, then he stirs it before turning off the stove entirely. Everything is nearly ready, with time to spare. Only about 7:43, Wade decides to start looking for where he placed his wine. Sure, he has some fruity vodka and mixers, beer in the fridge, and a bit of coconut rum, but Wade needs specifically wine for the occasion.

“It smells wonderful,” Wade hears behind him and almost throws his spatula at the new person.

“Fuck, you scared me!” Wade exclaims after seeing a familiar red and blue suit. “I mean, Yo, welcome to my crib. Of course it smells good. It’s a homemade meal by yours truly.”

Spider-Man laughs and makes himself at home on the sofa. “It’s not what I expected to smell. No tacos?”

“Had those for breakfast. Figured I’d diversify my palette. If you wanted some then you should have cake over earlier.” Wade really hope he made the right move and not sticking for the usual plan. So far Spider-Man seems okay with the change, if not for a little confused. “You’re early. Didn’t even open the wine yet.”

Spider-Man tilts his head, but overall still looks relaxed and spread out on the couch. “There’s wine now? Before a patrol?”

“You of all people can’t deny a little wine and dine. You said your metabolism makes it nearly impossible to get drunk if you hade two bottles of vodka in an hour. A glass of wine is nothing. And you’re still early.”

“It’s, like, seven-fifty-something. That’s hardly earlier. I was half tempted to come earlier so I could help you cook, but didn’t since I actually suck at helping to cook. It’s like once I smell food I get really impatient and always sneak some while it’s still cooking.”

Wade likes the idea of Spider-Man coming early, just to hang out and help cook, essentially. It feels domestic and sweet, and Wade pushes down the voices telling him Spider-Man would never mean it to sound sweet like that. “Don’t worry, Spidey, I’d kick you out of the kitchen fast before you could really steal food.”

“Can I steal some now? Or do I have to wait until 8?” Spider-Man has almost a pleasing tone, an endearing tone, to his voice that just Gets To Wade. “I haven’t eaten since lunch since you were cooking for me.”

Wade turns on his heals to face away from Spider-Man. Much as Deadpool loves the man, he seems to honest and sweet. “I’ll fix you a plate. How tall do you want the pile of food?”

“If the pasta is not at least three inches tall, are you really feeding me?”

Wade laughs, fully relating to the need for a lot of food. Wade stacks it all in a bowl instead of a plate to minimize the mess. The salmon would be weird but whatever. It is an informal dinner between friends. If they had tacos like planned they would not even use plates and just eat from the tortilla. Spider-Man can accept a pasta bowl and a glass of wine poured into his favorite cat-lady mug. 

“Ooh, fancy. Thanks, DP.” Spider-Man reaches for the food with absolute delight, already having rolled his mask to his nose while Wade made his plate.

“No problem, babe,” Wade replies, watching Peter’s reaction closely. Nothing major changed, just a slight pause when he went to lift his fork to his mouth. If ‘babe’ got no reaction from Spider-Man than the food must really be distracting him.

“Damn, that’s so good!”

As much as Wade wanted to brag, or even prepare his own portion, the doorbell rings. Exactly 8 on the dot, and Wade genuinely forgot about his wingman when Spidey came through his window. Spider-Man himself barely raises a brow as he shoves a mouthful of pasta in his mouth and briefly looks at Wade.

“Just a friend. Lemme get that.” Wade takes three long strides to the door, swinging it open to the point it slams against the wall harshly. “Hey, you sexy devil! About time you showed your ugly mug around!” Wade is certain he just called his friend sexy and ugly in the same breath, but whatever, he went in for a giant hug that lifted the man off his feet a few inches. “C’mon, let yourself in. You out of uniform?”

“This is my usual work uniform. Long day at the office. Other one’s in my briefcase,” he says, holding up an old but nice briefcase with the side not holding onto his walking cane. 

Wade moves out of the way, looks at Peter and gives a thumbs up. “Soooo, DD, this is Spider-Man. Spider-Man, say hi!”

Spider-Man drops his fork, luckily back into his bowl, and his jaw. “Da-Dare Devil? You’re friends with Wade? Out-outside of hero clothes?” Score. Spider-Man thinks Dare Devil is cool and Wade by association already. 

“It’s an ongoing agreement. The trick is that otherwise he wants me to wear nothing at all.”

“I can, uh, see why. You look good in a suit. Normal suit. Hero suit, too. You always look cool, honestly,” Spider-Man gushes. In a moment Wade realizes his plan is backfiring. As delighted as Wade is that even the _prospect_ of Spider-Man maybe not being straight, Spider-Man acting like a schoolgirl with a crush on senpai is less than optimal when he is not senpai. 

“Thanks. I’m a lawyer for income and the more legal and diligent way to fight crime. Matthew Michael Murdock, attorney at law, should you ever need one,” Matt introduces, extending his hand to Spider-Man with a lopsided smirk.

“Wow, full naming yourself? Triple M you’re stealing my triple W schtick!”

“But what is an M but an upside W?” Spider-Man says, attention back to Wade as he tries to defend Wade’s little honor.

“I’m under the impression that a W is really an upside down M.”

“Mm, true. But your impression lacks accounting for the fact that it’s my apartment and I’m the best.” Wade sticks out his tongue at Matt, knowing he cannot see it, but knows it is out nonetheless by some weird pressure or moisture change in the air or something. “Want dinner? By that I’m asking how much.”

“Just a normal portion size. The portion that isn’t feeding someone with a super hero metabolism.”

“Pssha. Normie. Doesn’t even have a healing factor. Even Spider-Man has a healing factor. A tiny, baby one.”

Matt chuckles over the distant cry of “Hey!” from Spider-Man. Wade could never fault Spider-Man if he chose to run away with Matt because even Wade swoons at the sound of his rich and velvety laugh.

“I want no more than a plate. Can’t wait to eat it.” Matt is too dreamy when he talks, even about something simple like food, and Wade almost has to fan himself when he casually sits beside Spider-Man. Too many attractive people in his house and it is definitely backfiring.

Unlike what he expected, Matt and Spider-Man hold off on small talk until Wade comes back to them, passing Matt a plate and starting to eat his own meal, too. Spider-Man is nearly done and looking pleased, taking sips of wine from his mug ever so often despite making a sour face. Wade likes to think that despite having a high alcohol tolerance, Spider-Man does not like red wine’s bitterness and is trying to hide his lemon face. Adorable. Matt, on the other hand, nods his head and chews and drinks with a bit of grace. Dreamy. 

“So, DP, thanks for inviting me over,” Spider-Man says, putting his empty plate on his lap. “Want me to do the dishes. We can leave when everyone is done? DD, you got your suit in your briefcase? Coming with?”

Matt smiles and nods. “Sounds like a good time. Not sure what we’ll find. I’ve been wondering about the recent activity lately, so some extra eyes will help.”

“Sounds perfect, except Spider-Man cannot do the dishes. You help me save the city, not clean my house!” Wade scolds as though he himself ever cleans his house. He more often just throws away his dishes when he finishes them, paper or porcelain. Spider-Man is too domestic and cute for his own good. Or for Wade’s own good.

“You cooked. I can clean. That’s how this works.”

“You’re my guest!”

“I’m an adult with two perfectly capable hands to clean after a meal.”

“But what if you, like, get your suit dirty! Your webshooters damaged?”

Spider-Man must have rolled his eyes before he takes a deep breath. “This is just two friends helping each other out. It’s a hand-and-hand deal.”

“But. You. Guest. No.” Wade pouts, visible with his mask half-raised. Wade has been using hand soap for dish soap and he really does not want Spider-Man to know that. “I’ll do them when I get back. Waiting around is just longer we’re here not saving NYC. What have you been investigating lately, Matt?” Wade says to change topics so fast it almost gives Spider-Man whiplash.

Matt takes the bait like a true wingman. “Suspicious city damage. I’ve been listening to this city, the city itself, and the infrastructure is weakening. Creaking noises not there a week ago, crash on new construction, repairs busting more than fixing. There’s been a huge wave of people losing their homes in collapses. I want to see if someone or someones are responsible, but tonight we can focus on just trying to ensure no one is hurt under any rubble.”

Spider-Man and Wade nod, then verbalize that they nod in case Matt could not see it (he could sense it but clarification is nice). “That’s what I’m afraid of, too. A small building collapsed yesterday, late last night, but earlier I had to run around the entire city webbing holes and trying to patch new cracks that made my Spidey sense tingle. It’s not nearly enough, since they’ll probably only last a week before someone needs to get real concrete down before the whole buildings fall.”

“That why I found you heaving and tired on a building yesterday?” Wade asks, remembering it fondly if only to imagine Spidey panting and sounding so out of it in a good way. Even if it really was in a bad way and now Wade feels guilty. Dang.

“Yeah. I went all around the city, and I still had to fight a building from collapse.” Spider-Man rubs his temples and sighs. “C’mon. We can do some patrol and investigation tonight.”

“I’ll suit up fast. One moment while I change in the bedroom, perhaps?”

Matt walks to Wade’s bedroom without any guidance. Matt closes the door behind him, which Spider-Man watches for a long moment. Maybe Wade should say something, even if he has no idea what that look means. Spider-Man turns his gaze to Wade, and Wade feels his breath hitch in his throat before he can talk. Standing on his feet with a quick motion, Spider-Man holds Wade’s attention as he approaches close. “Have you two . . . known each other long?”

Wade shrugs. “Not really. Just got close enough to patch each other up in the other’s apartment. I’d do the same for you, of course. The ‘secret identity’ reveal part is optional, of course. I don’t, don’t want to make it seem like you need to ever out yourself.”

“So it’s just . . . professional? Hero-related? With Matt, I mean.”

Wade cannot detect what Spider-Man’s tone of voice is, but he assumes it to be worry. “Yeah, absolutely. He’s a cool and hot and smart guy — nothing on you, I’m sure — but I don’t go around looking to find out someone’s S-I unless they give it to me freely. He gave it to me as his own judgement call, so don’t worry about me trying to snoop and find yours out. Though, between you and me and his super sonic bearing listening through my bedroom door, I hope he thinks we’re friends.”

Matt takes that as his cue to walk out, fully suited for battle with a small smirk. “We’re coworkers, Wade. Maybe friends if we can get more dinner later. It was a nice meal.”

Wade takes the words in the nicest way he can, with a hard pat on Matt’s back and a loud “Hell yeah!”

Spider-Man joins in and pats Matt on the back, just not as harshly. “Sweet! Friends with Dare Devil!”

“Aaaaand?” Wade pouts, pulling down his mask and ripping off his apron. The dejection in his demeanor is noticeable as he tries to adjust the last of his costume to look like a badass mercenary. 

Spider-Man shrugs. “We’ve already been friends, DP. Let me have more than one hero be ef ef. And how are we doing patrol. I can carry both of you or we can split up.” Wade cannot believe Peter says be ef ef over BFF, but explaining written dialogue to a guy who does not know he is in a fanfic usually never turns out well, so he does not comment. That, and Matt beats him to talking first. Somehow. 

“I vote on separate recon to see which areas may be in need of some temporary repairs or it we find any cause on the sudden damages.”

“I vote on anything, but if we do split up I vote for getting my own web shooters.”

“Deadpool,” Matt and Spider-Man say in unison and equal disappointment.

“What? It’s a good idea! That way we can repair any cracks ourselves instead of needing you to.”

Spider-Man pauses and looks like he considers the logic before ultimately shaking his head. “No, you don’t have my Spidey sense. You may, or will, just waste it all on normal NYC poor infrastructure. Mark the questionable spot and I’ll see what I can do.

“Fine,” Deadpool answers in a sad tone while Matt replies with a level “Agreed.”

“Cool. Team Red, scatter!” Spider-Man half-shouts even though his words are infinitely less cool since they all have to squeeze outside of Wade’s bedroom window individually, hardly making for a cool and climatic scatter throughout the city.

As much as it makes sense for Wade to go last to shimmy through the window because it _is_ his apartment, Spider-Man goes last after protesting that Wade would try to touch his butt. Wade strongly insisted that he would, at worst, lovingly admire that ass bent over and scooting over, but would politely keep his hands to himself. Matt, however, could hear the lie in his heartbeat, and agreed to let Spider-Man go last.

Worst wingman ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Matt is honestly not the worst or best wingman. He’ll come in handy in terms of a relationship between Spider-Man and Deadpool later. For now they’re all just Team Red and I’m really happy because FRIENDSHIP.  
> Not sure if I mentioned it already, but. *whispers* friendship!
> 
> Comment if you may please! Thanks so much for ready and possible leaving feedback!
> 
> Love,  
> Grey


End file.
